“You’re like, bipolar,” my ex-boyfriend once told me. I should have seen it coming. My moods were extreme, and at the good old age of 20, he wasn’t much help in the situation due to his lack of understanding. I would tell him to shut up and say he was rude for saying that. Little did I know that, about six months later, I would also tell him he was right.
Turns out, I have bipolar II disorder. About a year and a half ago, I was diagnosed. And although a lot of things began to make sense, it killed a part of my self-esteem. Like many others with a psychological or mood disorder, I tend to feel shame and embarrassment in the fact. But it is who I am.